


Gotta Love Those Starbucks Lovers

by rainbowagnes



Series: Diviner & Diviner [1]
Category: The Diviners Series - Libba Bray
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, Femslash, Frappucinos, I adore Ling and she needs some fluff!, Meet-Cute, Memphis's offscreen matchmaking, Modern AU, POV Character of Color, Starbucks, Turquoise Sunglasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 05:24:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12425913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowagnes/pseuds/rainbowagnes
Summary: Ling hates Starbucks. Until the Most Beautiful Woman in the World walks her way . . . .





	Gotta Love Those Starbucks Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> "Before the Devil Breaks You" broke ME, alright? Give me an outlet for my pain. This fandom needs so many more fluffy fics!

There were a number of things Ling Chan hated. 

There were the obvious ones: inaccessible buildings, creeps in bus stations, weird items in grocery store with "Oriental" in the name, the tacky shamrock crap her relatives felt the need to spread over ever surface come March. 

There were the less obvious ones: man spreaders in public transport, skirts without pockets, the inability of Hollywood to ever make a movie with actual Asian leads, sizing system at Starbucks and the transliteration of Gaelic into Latin letters, both of which were systems seemingly designed to be as incomprehensible as humanly possible. 

And then there were people who were late. 

Ling checked her phone again. 9:47. Damn. Memphis was 17 minutes late. Already her annoyance was peaked. Time was wasting, and she still had her shift at the restaurant and a major exam to study for. (Which she may have put off to watch Iron Man reruns at 1 am this morning. Maybe.) And it wasn't like Memphis to be late, unless something was up with Isaiah. Usually he was steadfastly, boringly punctual. Usually. 

And there was absolutely nothing like being alone in Starbucks, half-heartedly sipping an overpriced frappucino (flavors with some bullshit like toasted caramel graham cracker coconut spice, because white people really couldn't stop themselves) and waiting for Facebook to refresh. Which felt stalkerish, even if it was to sift through the multilingual cyber-bitching of her approximately billion relatives to see the photos Henry uploaded. (The most recent featured him and David making out during Mardi Gras.) 

She checked the phone again. 9:53. Maybe something was up with Isaiah. She bent over her phone and was about to make a series of urgent texts when a voice called from across the crumb-y table. 

"Are you Ling Chan?" 

Ling almost choked on her drink. 

Because standing across from her was The World's. Most Beautiful. Woman. 

Ling had a considerable number of celebrity crushes, ranging from but not limited to Elodie Yung, Zoe Saldana, Felicity Jones, and Golshifteh Farahani. (A lot, OK? Why did ladies have to be so pretty?) But all of them, all the glossy film actresses in premiers and on magazine covers, paled in comparison to This Girl. 

Because holy fucking shit. 

This girl was tall. Muscular. Ling thought she might have been a dancer. She had on a beaded crop top that sparked against her dark skin and high-wasted white shorts that were probably created by God as a personal attack against Miss Ling Saorise Chan, turquoise sunglasses and a heart-shaped cross-body bag. 

She smiled, and it could have lit up the entire lower east side, Ling fucking swore. 

"Uhh, yeah," she answered. She could already feel her cheeks heating up and felt unduly self-conscious, with her old t-shirt (favorite due to the giant "STEMINIST" logo on the front and the incredibly soft fabric but also home to some weird stains) and battered backpack. "I'm Chan. Ling Chan. That's me." 

World's Most Beautiful Woman held out her hand. "I'm Alma. Memphis's friend. He mention I might be joining your charming company?" 

"Uhmmm," Ling wracked her mind. "No." 

Alma laughed, and Ling just about died. Right there. In Starbucks. Sandwiched in between a table of ancient men complaining about the weather on one side and a young mom chasing her toddler around with a juice pouch on the other. Fuck. 

"Just like Memphis, eh? I love that boy, but he's got his head in the clouds half the time. Always thinking of some kind of new poem, you know?" 

Ling nodded. She did know. 

"But he didn't tell me he had such a lovely friend!" 

That would have been Ling's death right then and there if her phone hadn't buzzed. "SRY I CANT MAKE IT URGENT SCHLRSHIP SHIT meet up tues? TTYL." Followed by a row of emojis. Of course. 

Alma's phone buzzed and Ling realized Memphis must have sent her the same text. 

"What a move of him to make us both come down to this Starbucks and then bailing." Alma sat down in a huff. 

"I guess." Ling was irritated at Memphis but not the situation. "So I guess it's just you and me, then?" 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me prompts either on my Tumblr @ghostborscht or in the comments below! I hope you enjoyed!


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